So, my boyfriend’s best friend, who is like a brother to him, was diagnosed with cancer this past year. He is in his mid-50’s, and was very healthy and active and all that – and then, one day, on an ordinary weekday a couple months back, we were out for breakfast with him at a diner when he made a casual comment that he was having trouble reading the menu because he had a terrible headache and it was blurry. He said: “I think I might need glasses.” A couple days later, the headaches got so bad, he was rushed to the ER. Turns out it was cancer. He had a procedure done, surgery, and all seemed well for awhile. Then it spread to other areas, and from there, it started going downhill. A few weeks ago, he was placed in a Life Center nearby, and then COVID broke out, so everything started getting really weird.
A bit ago, my boyfriend was added to short list of people who get just one last visit, masked and behind plexi-glass, because his friend is now in hospice and “actively dying.” Isn’t that a lovely term? So this morning, I drove my boyfriend to see his best friend, so that he could go and visit him, and “say goodbye.” I waited in the car parking lot for him, because I was not allowed inside, and when he came back out, we were instructed that he should immediately launder his clothes and take a shower before I could hug him or touch him or anything like that. (we live together, so obviously we are seeing each other physically right now.) I asked him how it went, and if he felt good about the conversation with his friend. He said yes, and also, that it was very hard seeing him that way. He said their brotherly connection was strong, and that he knew his friend felt loved during their visit, and in general. He then turned to me and said: “I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t get to do any of this, you didnt have any sort of goodbye, with your husband. It must be really hard hearing about it.”
It is really hard. It’s also heart-wrenching to know that my boyfriend’s best friend is all alone while dying, because of COVID, and knowing how brutal it must have been for my guy to walk in there, having it on his heart that this may very well be the last time he ever sees his friend. Saying goodbye, not saying goodbye – it’s all so horrific, isn’t it? Every bit of it breaks my heart into a billion pieces, and I feel like I just need an emotional nap.
I feel for my boyfriend. His heart is breaking. I feel for me. It brings up all the grief. It brings up all those triggers of having no sense of “peace”, ever, with my husband’s sudden death. And then I think about my guy’s friend, sitting in that hospital bed alone, for weeks and weeks, no visitors allowed, what must be going on in his heart and mind. Dying slowly, dying fast – each brings forth different types of grief and trauma, and I find myself just sitting here thinking about how awful ALL OF IT really is, for our fragile human hearts to take, over and over again.
There is no better or worse – it’s all just so heavy on the soul.
